


I Still Dream of Earthquakes

by Kuja



Series: Impossible [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Gen, Identity Issues, Implied Relationships, No Sex, Not Standard ABO, Omega Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Power Imbalance, Sassy Steve Rogers, Seriously Not Standard ABO, grumpy steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuja/pseuds/Kuja
Summary: Steve wakes to a new world and a new role as a member of the Avengers, but not only is he struggling to stay afloat after the loss of everything familiar, prejudice and policy threaten to once again rule his life. Of course, he's not going to go quietly...





	I Still Dream of Earthquakes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Scents and Sensibility: The Working Assassin's Guide to Supersoldier Seduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772824) by [galwednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galwednesday/pseuds/galwednesday), [silentwalrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentwalrus/pseuds/silentwalrus), [skellerbvvt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skellerbvvt/pseuds/skellerbvvt). 
  * Inspired by [The Fool in the Mirror](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16457597) by [thepinupchemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinupchemist/pseuds/thepinupchemist). 
  * Inspired by [Time for Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802263) by [GoodbyeBlues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodbyeBlues/pseuds/GoodbyeBlues). 



> Confession: ABO is **so** far out of my comfort zone I felt like I needed to pack a suitcase for the trip, but I read some wonderful stories in recent months that are ABO with a 'twist' and I wanted to put my own spin on things. Sadly I do not have a beta reader to tell me when I make unwise decisions!
> 
> So yes, this is very much non-standard ABO that you might recognise some elements of if you read the works that inspired it (as you should, they are all amazing!) - but I have decided to do it 'my' way so we're talking very much social dynamics above all else, non-standard gender/sexual identities and no explicit smut!
> 
> I have tried to give a general idea of this universe without just spelling everything out too neatly, as this is the first part of what will be a longer series and I want to reveal some details later as I go. If you have any burning questions about what exactly is going on in the wider world or with the characters then by all means ask, and I will answer if I can!
> 
> Title is from the song 'Trials' by Shady Bard.

As I gaze around at these strangers in town  
I guess the only stranger is me,  
And I wonder, yes I wonder -  
Is this the way life's meant to be?

**\- ELO, The Way Life’s Meant To Be**

**[2012]**

 

Steve shifted his backside in the world’s most uncomfortable chair for at least the twenty-seventh time, and made a conscious effort to release his white-knuckle grip on the armrests. He heard a protesting creak from the laminated wood and sighed. It was going to be a _long_ day.

All the furniture in the Stark Tower conference room was uncomfortable - whether simply from bad design choices or a deliberate attempt to keep the occupants alert and suffering, Steve couldn’t tell. The glass table was too low, the artwork too bright, and the air neutraliser humming away in a corner was giving him a pounding headache; the strong ozone-vanilla combination baffling and more unpleasant than anything else he could have possibly detected in the room. Did they make a habit of leaving the stupid things everywhere, he wondered, or was this just another attempt to keep him calm and protect him from the new world battering at his every last nerve? 

In the two months since he was pulled from the ice he had barely begun to sift through the chaotic mess of this new century. His enhanced senses had been a curse at times during the war - especially out in the field with a bunch of unwashed soldiers - but even leaving his apartment these days was like stepping into a drug-fuelled nightmare; an assault of unfamiliar sights, scents and sounds. 

Dirt and chemicals fought with each other underneath the choking pollution and crowds of bodies, and the people seemed to either flaunt their entire life stories in their scent and on their skin, or wore so much masking solution it was like they were trying to erase themselves. He had almost cried with relief one afternoon when a dumpster of rotting food sent his brain straight back to a Brooklyn alley in the 30’s. God, it was pathetic! 

Steve still hadn’t found a tactful way to explain any of this to the legion of therapists and minders assigned to him. He couldn’t find a single frame of reference he could use for his experience. No one else had had their life uprooted in such a spectacular fashion, especially with no possible way of returning to anything familiar. 

They did their best; of course they did. Soft and patient teachers sat down with him and gave crash courses in history, culture and social norms until his head spun. Medical staff stepped carefully around him and saw to some of his more ‘unique’ requirements with a bland politeness that made him want to scream. SHIELD agents showed him around the new-old city and all the ugly buildings that seemed to be more glass and fake plants than actual structure. 

After his part in the Chitauri invasion became known, Steve had begun to receive a steady stream of social invitations much to his surprise (and growing terror). He had dealt with this new found popularity by panicking and flinging shirts around his bedroom at first, but after he decided to try to avoid social gatherings altogether he thought he’d done a pretty good job of declining the bulk of the invites so far; even managing to avoid being too much of an asshole.

He got the technique perfected pretty quickly - all he needed to do was let himself go a bit misty-eyed and say he was ‘overwhelmed’ at the moment - and wasn’t that the understatement of the fucking century - but he managed to make it sound as if he was just shy and intimidated by rich people, which was so ridiculous the very idea would have made anyone who knew him laugh until they cried. The sad thing was, there was no one left alive who knew Steve Rogers well or even at all, and apparently New York City’s elite had decided in his extended ‘absence' that he was an unstable Irish peasant with muscles for brains. 

Steve had recently started fantasising about telling people where they could stick their well-meaning advice and insincere sympathies, but on reflection he was grateful that at least the whole ‘frozen’ thing gave him a lot of excuses and freedom in his behaviour.

He tried to tell people the truth at first - he really did - but after several aborted attempts he came to the conclusion that part of him was just too polite to admit that he hated everything.

He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin most days, and no matter how carefully SHIELD recreated a ‘period’ apartment for him and filled it with relics of the past, it wasn’t _home._ He could never be fooled by the manufactured ‘vintage’ scents, and a lot of modern food was so processed and artificial it made him gag. 

It was only through days of research that he discovered a type of food called ‘organic’, and then a lucky turn found him at a market stall in Fort Greene full of fresh fruit and ingredients that once he got them home just smelled and tasted blessedly like themselves. His cooking skills had skyrocketed in recent weeks out of necessity alone. He never thought he’d ever miss boiled cabbage, but at least it didn’t taste of soap and burnt rubber like the plastic-wrapped snacks that were always being thrust under his nose. 

His wistful thoughts about vegetables were interrupted when the door clicked open and a group of people filed into the room, taking the empty seats at discrete intervals so they formed a loose semicircle. Steve recognised all of them, but their presence did nothing to put him at ease.

Natasha Romanov the ex-assassin nodded to him as she entered, going for a position in the corner where she could watch the whole room. Her eyes as usual gave nothing away and her scent was really faint, with just a few ambient components from the immediate area. He knew it freaked other people out, but it was actually one of the main reasons Steve liked her, even though he was sure she could put a knife between his ribs without too much trouble. 

Next was Tony with his usual Starkpad in hand, not even looking up as he wove absently around the table to the beat of a classic rock song. Maria Hill followed closely behind but quickly got in front of Tony, pulled out two chairs and shoved him firmly into one with a thump. Tony yelped in surprise but didn’t protest as he sat, eyes going straight back to his screen as he muttered to himself.

Tony reeked - mainly of solder and solvents as usual, though his sharp personal scent was somewhat mitigated by the gentler notes of Rhodey and Pepper. Steve loved Pepper because she did a great job of keeping Tony out of his hair when he was at the Tower, and by all accounts it was her influence that calmed his reckless behaviour and prevented more spectacular acts of self-neglect on a daily basis.

Tony was currently wearing thousands of dollars of bespoke tailoring but smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a week, and the overwhelming cocktail made Steve’s nose and eyeballs twitch in discomfort. He would always admit to disliking scent management - up to a point - but the stale alcohol and sex clinging to the man was just obnoxious. Tony was loaded for God’s sake! He could afford a half-decent shower.

The space next to Maria was reserved for Nick Fury, whose face was even more inscrutable than Natasha’s on a good day. Today however, Steve could see he had a few extra frown lines between his brows and at at the corners of his mouth. He smelled of sweat and exertion as if he had been running, or arguing. Never a good sign. Both Maria and Fury always had fairly subdued scents as a rule, wearing the standard masking solution given to all SHIELD agents and government employees. It was the one that Steve _should_ have been using regularly himself alongside his blockers, but somehow he mysteriously ‘forgot’ to apply it most days. Yes, he was petty. No, he didn’t care.

‘You’re early, Captain.’ Fury said when he was seated, somehow making it sound like a question.

‘Thought I’d take a walk over here. Must’ve been faster than I thought.’ Steve said, carefully examining his nails for fake nonchalance. 

He wasn’t going to admit that he had a bad feeling about the reason for this particular meeting, and had spent the first twenty minutes after he arrived at the tower taking deep breaths through his mouth in a bathroom to compose himself, trying to calm the churning nausea in his stomach. 

He’d always known the ‘conversation’ had to happen sooner or later, but he really didn’t want to have to go through all of it again in an alien environment with total strangers; wrapped up tightly in a new set of rules and terminology that still eluded him.

‘Right. Let’s get started.’ Fury said. If he was aware of Steve’s discomfort he was choosing to ignore it. ‘We’re here to talk about the future of the Avengers Initiative, specifically the role of Captain Rogers who is currently listed as an employee of SHIELD. You all did well against the Chitauri, but if we are going to continue this operation, the World Security Council has a few…concerns.’

‘I’ll bet they do.’ Steve said, glaring at Fury. He didn’t bother keeping the tightly wound anger from his voice. ’You didn’t tell them at first, did you?’

‘No, I didn’t think it was relevant at the time.’ Fury said evenly. ‘But for our long term goal as protection for this country and the wider world, we have to present a good image. The public might not react well if certain details about the Avengers, and Captain America in particular were to be discovered.’

‘Oh for Christ’s sake!’ Tony said. Steve hadn’t even realised the shorter man was paying attention. ‘Let’s address the huge super-powered elephant in the room. Our good Capsicle is an omega, - a _second,_ you might say.’ Tony smirked, laughing at Maria’s scandalised expression. ‘This makes everyone _deeply_ uncomfortable, and even talking about it makes you squirm - though it’s going to be obvious to anyone who spends more than a minute in a room with him anyway.’

Tony tilted backwards precariously in one of the stupid chairs, face a picture of smug innocence.

‘There, now we can continue this conversation like mature adults.’ He continued, waving a hand casually at Fury, who looked like he very much wanted to strangle him. 

‘What are _you_ doing here in that case, Stark?’ Natasha said sweetly, and the fact that she cracked her knuckles while she looked at Tony was entirely a coincidence, Steve was sure.

‘Getting you stuffy military types to admit you’re embarrassed that an O saved your asses, apparently.’ Stark said, but he quieted and looked down at his pad again under Natasha’s withering glare.

‘He’s right.’ Steve found himself saying. ‘You didn’t seem to give a damn about my orientation when you asked me to join the fight against Loki and the Chitauri.’

‘Status, Cap.’ Maria corrected.

‘Status then.’ Steve ground out. ‘You didn’t care about my _status_ when you sent me out to kill aliens a month ago, so what’s changed your mind?’

‘Publicity, for one thing.’ Maria said, taking over in her usual efficient way. Steve supposed she was trying to play peacemaker, but it just got his hackles up even more to be _managed_ like an unruly child. 

’When the Chitauri invaded, the operation that found the Valkyrie and thawed you was still highly classified.’ Maria continued. ‘There were rumours leaked of course, but you hadn’t been seen clearly and we made sure there was no evidence to back up any of the speculation and conspiracy theories. Now you’re living in the city and working for SHIELD you’re going to be among the general public, and I don’t need to explain why this poses a problem, what with the nature of the serum and your status. People talk, and there will be political and social debates we can’t afford right now. It’s still very much a hot-button topic in the media.’

‘You mean they’ll discover I’m omega and think I shouldn’t be fighting - shouldn’t be Captain America.’ Steve said, trying very hard not to lose his temper. ‘I thought things would’ve changed for the better in seventy years. Seems I was wrong - things are just as fucked up as ever when it comes to human rights.’

‘It’s not about rights, Steve -‘ Maria tried, but Steve cut her off.

‘Yes it is! You think that since a quirk of biology means I have heats and could get pregnant, I can’t have a _real_ job - I should just sit around and wait and be _grateful_ to be chosen by a pack for breeding; well that’s bullshit! I could fight for my country when I was 100 pounds lighter and I can damn well do it now. If you’re getting all uptight because of a scent in your nostrils like little children then that’s your problem, and if I can manage myself during my heats then I don’t see why you A’s can’t learn to keep it in your pants for five minutes when you work with me!’

Steve took a deep breath at the end of his rant to try and compose himself, and realised that at some point he had shoved the chair back and got to his feet, shoulders hunched forward and teeth on display in challenge to Hill and Fury, who remained still and neutral, faces impassive - not giving any ground but refusing to be drawn into the confrontation either. A growl was rumbling deep in his chest and his fists clenched white at his sides. 

Tony was staring at him now, his expression tense and pale. Tony didn’t cope well with direct confrontation, and Steve paused when he realised that he could smell the man’s sour anxiety even through the cacophony of whiskey and motor oil. Natasha’s face and scent were still inscrutable as always, but she had leaned back away from him - so casually you would think she was just lounging - but it was a deliberate posture designed not to antagonise him further.

He made an effort to silence his threatening growl with another inhale and tried not to wince as he got a lungful of neutraliser chemicals. Ugh. Masking was the _worst._ He hated losing his composure so easily, but all the pointless deception and hoops to jump through on a daily basis made him incredibly frustrated. Why couldn’t he just be himself and serve his country how he wanted? Instead his whole life had been planned out - people told him at every level how he should behave, and what he could and couldn’t achieve.

He could still hear the disbelieving way the people who knew he was O in the military would say his title: ‘Captain’ as he walked by - as if by birth he was unable to command or have any say in a battle _he_ had begun. The Howling commandos were different; they had seen him in action and his status quickly became for the most part irrelevant - but he felt like he could never stop raging at the system that had left him dying and always fighting to prove himself at every hurdle. No one believed he could be anything more than an ornament - and a mouthy defective one at that - until he stepped up and challenged them every step of the way.

Except for Bucky.

_‘You sure as shit never let anyone stop you before, Steve. Why’s this gotta be any different?’_

No. Steve couldn’t let himself think about Bucky. He shoved the feelings away roughly before they could overwhelm him, staring down Fury and Maria instead until they both blinked slowly, conceding the challenge, if only a little. The tension in the room immediately dissipated as everyone broke eye contact and resettled themselves in the chairs, Tony quickly returning his attention to the device in his lap.

‘I’m not going to pretend to be anything I’m not, and if you won’t let me fight for SHIELD you know I’ll find another way. You’ve read my file.’ Steve said after a pause, trying to keep his voice even.

‘Yes, we have.’ Fury said calmly, though his eyebrows had raised a fraction at Steve’s outburst. ‘We want you to continue to be a member of the Avengers, just with some precautions.’

‘What sort of precautions?’ Steve asked, suspicious.

‘You’re never to publicly declare your status, you can only be deployed with the other Avengers or a STRIKE team as backup, and you have to use blockers and masking at all times.’ Maria said. ‘We’re aware that the blockers you’re currently using aren’t ideal, but Stark has kindly offered to work on a solution.’

‘Your metabolism is a challenge, Cap.’ Tony said, pointing at him with a lazy finger. ‘Never mind the fact that we still usually don’t give contraceptives to O’s anyway because of the risks involved, that serum of yours complicates things massively. At a generous estimate you’ll probably need more than six times the regular dose to get the same effect.’

‘But you can do it? Make it work?’ Steve said, thinking of the fight; the endless war. 

If this was what he had to do to get the government off his back and keep going then he would agree to it. For now. 

‘Of course I can - I’m a genius.’ Tony snorted. ‘Got to get a few more samples of your blood and whatever, but it won’t be a problem. I just made a panic room for Banner, so compared to that you’ll be a walk in the park.’

Steve sighed. Tony _was_ a genius - as much as if not more so than Howard - but Steve still didn’t relish the thought of taking any kind of hormone suppressants constantly for the foreseeable future. Even if Tony could reduce the huge list of side effects, it was never going to be a healthy long-term option. 

Any individual who used blockers - whether A, B or O - normally saved them for use only in high-risk situations, and they all had to have breaks between courses. Steve would eventually have to either stop taking them and reveal himself - along with all the problems that would bring in an overwhelmingly AB environment - or stay on them and risk permanent damage to his body and his psyche. The serum could only do so much. 

‘And finally,’ Maria said, her tone far too casual. ‘You should be in a unit. In general, it’s considered better for O’s to be at least paired, especially those who have suffered from trauma. You’ll have more stability that way, and it will help you adjust.’ 

Steve bristled again as he realised this was what the whole meeting had been building up to. Fury and especially Maria had looked somewhat uncomfortable at the frank discussion of his status, but Tony and Natasha weren’t phased. They had known or at least suspected what was about to happen before he did. 

‘For God’s sake, I don’t need help!’ Steve snapped. ‘I don’t know what bullshit they’re teaching these days but none of you are O, and none of you have experience with the serum. You don’t know anything about me or what I can do. To you I’m weak - a liability, or maybe just a waste of a good American womb.’ He almost spat at the last word. ‘Honestly, I don’t care what you think - I don’t need any ‘stability’ and I won’t pair with anyone, not least because I can’t stand the scents of people in this century anyway!’

He paused, breathing hard. His hands were clenched into fists again on the table and he forced himself to relax and gradually push his shoulders back down. Getting overly emotional like this never got him - or any O’s - anywhere. The others could probably smell his growing anger again, even through the air neutraliser and masking solution; he’d only applied the bare minimum out of spite when he knew he was coming to the tower - how much did he regret that now! - and his scent was always very strong due to the serum. The looks on all their faces confirmed his suspicions when he could see them subtly sniffing in his direction, eyes wide. Unfortunately an O’s scent tended to smack everyone else in the face like a ton of bricks.

He cursed his status wildly and colourfully under his breath for yet again throwing a wrench into his life, and glared around the table as he dared anyone to comment. He was surprised when it was Natasha who eventually broke the awkward silence - Steve had almost forgotten she was even in the room with them for a moment. He realised with a shiver that she probably encouraged that mistake, and it was one that had got countless people killed.

‘That’s good, Rogers,’ Natasha said calmly, as if they were simply continuing a friendly conversation. ‘- because I like to keep things strictly business. They want to pair us in the field, but it would be for day work and ops only - with some occasional public appearances.’

‘Don’t I need a big strong _alpha?’_ Steve said, bitterness and sarcasm dripping from every word.

‘What, you think I can’t handle you?’ Natasha smiled, and he could see the assassin flash for a second behind her eyes. ‘I’m sure we’ll get along. It’s only to quiet down the nannies on the Council, after all. Normally I go with Clint, but we discussed it and we’re of the same mind that this will be a useful way to get you on the team. Plus, he’s overdue a vacation.’

‘I don’t need handling.’ Steve said grumpily, mostly out of habit. He already knew he would have to accept. 

He didn’t really mind a casual pairing with Natasha. It was honestly a better offer than he had expected. She was steady and a good fighter, plus she seemed as barely tolerant of the current system as he was. Presumably she had had to work hard to command respect in her position when she joined SHIELD. Having betas in higher level combat positions was unusual. Not half as taboo as an omega even joining the army in the first place, but a minority just the same. Steve was pleased they wouldn’t have to waste any of their time dancing around etiquette, either; Natasha was polite but didn’t have time for useless niceties, and he liked that just fine. 

‘I’m not staying in the Tower.’ He said at last after a pause. Natasha just looked at him, waiting.

‘I want -‘ Steve continued. ‘I want to continue to live alone. In Brooklyn. If you’re going to lie about my status then it shouldn’t be a problem.’

‘We’re not lying, Captain -‘ Fury said. ‘ - We’re just avoiding any accusations that the government is putting you in unnecessary danger.’

‘You might not be _lying,_ but you’re hiding the fact that the man who fought for this country seventy years ago and helped save the city a month ago is a childless O who was written off at the age of twelve when they realised that going through a pregnancy would kill me.’ Steve snapped. ‘I have a chance to make a difference here, to show people that it’s not just orientation - or status or _any_ meaningless trait that dictates what you can or can’t do with your life.’

‘You’re kind of an extreme case though, Spangles.’ Tony said, ‘The serum -‘

‘It’s not the fucking serum!’ Steve snarled. ‘It’s logic! So what if I used to be small? I could carry a rifle and shoot. I could use the nursing skills I picked up from my ma at the hospital. I could plot on a map and navigate. Whether I can have kids or not shouldn’t make a difference in war.’

‘But it does, Steve.’ Maria said gently, her hands out in a placating gesture. ‘You know it does, in the view of wider society at least. There are fewer O’s born every generation, and populations are declining. People would be angry that we sent you out there to die.’

‘I’m _valuable,_ you mean.’ Steve said, mouth twisted in disgust.

‘Yes you are.’ Fury interrupted, bland as ever. ’You’re the only living recipient of Erskine’s serum, and an exceptionally healthy omega. The possibilities are immense, for future research alone.’

‘You’re not putting me in a lab.’

‘Of course not, but you have to understand how the game works Rogers. Yes, society sees you as a valuable asset to keep on American soil, but we can use your skills - we just have to make compromises. Agent Romanov is one of those compromises, and trust me when I say she will be very discreet.’ Fury said, looking at Natasha who inclined her head slightly in his direction.

‘Now are you on board with this, or do I have to go and give the Council another hernia?’ Fury asked, tilting his head and a single eyebrow in challenge.

‘Fine.’ Steve said, looking away and wishing he didn’t sound quite so sulky. He hated feeling like he had to concede, even it was the sensible thing to do in the moment to get what he wanted.

‘Good, then it’s settled. You’ll get further details at 08:00 tomorrow. Make sure you pick up your regulation gear from Stark before you leave.’ Fury said, nodding once before finally showing them his back. 

Steve tried very hard not to roll his eyes. Though Fury was the undisputed Director of SHIELD, some habits were apparently still difficult to break.

Fury and Maria breezed out of the room, and Steve realised he was crushing the poor chair again when heard a squeak. He forced his hands to let go and tried not to groan too loudly in frustration.

‘It’s not so bad.’ Natasha said, smiling at him. ‘They let you stay.’

‘I shouldn’t have to justify myself at all.’ Steve grumbled, putting his head in his hands. ‘I can’t believe that we still have this level of prejudice after so long. I really hoped things would be different.’

‘So did I.’ Natasha said softly. ‘But other countries still have it worse.’

Steve shuddered as he remembered some of his catch-up history lessons, and the memory came to him that Natasha despite her flawless accent was originally Russian. There had been a lot of books on foreign history in the pile SHIELD gave him - including several on Russia. Much of it was almost too painful for him to read, though he had forced himself to anyway.

‘This is wrong. I should be doing more.’ Steve said into his hands. 

Tony laughed and looked up from his pad.

‘You don’t think seeing you in action will help?’ He said, gesturing to Steve’s enhanced body with a grin. ‘Trust me, they can stuff you full of as many blockers as they want but they won’t be able to keep you a secret forever, and when the truth comes out,’ He mimed a finger-gun striking a target. ’- then we get to see you smash every stereotype in the book. They won’t know what hit them!’

‘Tony has a point.’ Natasha said, looking a bit pained at the admission. ‘You just have to keep doing what you’re doing, and someday soon people will sit up and take notice. What better way to show them that Captain America is an O who achieved the impossible?’

‘I guess you’re right.’ Steve said, getting to his feet. Tony and Natasha stood and walked towards him to say a proper farewell, but he noticed that they both stopped further away than was custom, letting Steve make the decision on how to proceed. A warm ball of happiness unfurled in the centre of his chest, and though he couldn’t say it aloud he found himself smiling at how much he deeply appreciated the gesture. Maybe some of the people in this new world weren’t all bad.

‘It’s good to be working with you.’ He said, deliberately offering his bare hand and wrist to Tony. He knew it would be understood as the challenge it was, especially since he always refused to wear gloves, feigning ignorance of the custom whenever people mentioned it. More pettiness? Absolutely. 

Tony looked surprised and uncertain for a second but hid it well, nodding and taking a step forward to shake the proffered hand briefly. He would probably go straight to the nearest washroom as soon as he left but Steve was touched that the prickly man would even accept a handshake, and if he was honest Tony was long overdue for a wash anyway. 

Natasha to her credit didn’t hesitate as she held Steve’s hand firmly in her smaller one, and her smile reached her eyes for the first time as they made contact.

‘Ready to make some waves, Captain?’

‘Yeah, let’s do this.’


End file.
